These were the words we heard over and over again before touching down in Mumbai to begin our two-month journey through India. A brief pit stop in the airport loo introduced us to the infamous Asian squat toilets and the cantankerous ATM machine in Terminal 1 reminded us we weren’t in Kansas anymore. But it was the step outside, into the traffic-choked lanes of the sprawling metropolis where more than 20 million people call home, when we realized we could have never been fully prepared.

After all, we had arrived in India on the “holiest” of days, just in time for Holi Festival. Winding our way through the streets of Mumbai, India welcomed us in a riot of color as celebrants welcomed the arrival of spring. From the window of our yellow and black taxicab we clanked along the Indian roadways all the while enjoying a bouquet of dancing characters and colors. The smog-filled air was joined by clouds of pink, green and turquoise as pyramids of colorful powder was smeared on faces. Splashing, singing and dancing, these Mumbaikers shed all inhibition and differences, if only for one day, as we whizzed by in pure fascination.

Here are the faces of Holi.

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